


You, You, You

by pagesixlovers



Category: Phan, Phandom, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Amazingphil - Freeform, Angst, Dan Howell - Freeform, Heartbreak, M/M, Phanfiction, Phil Lester - Freeform, Pj ligouri - Freeform, Please read, danisnotonfire - Freeform, phanfic, pls, serious and gross angst, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:41:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5668087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagesixlovers/pseuds/pagesixlovers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’d never really given much thought on how we’d breakup." And really, Phil hadn't because they weren't supposed to. But they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You, You, You

   I’d never really given much thought on how we’d breakup. I figured maybe we’d grow up and realise that together we would always be immature twenty-something year-olds. I thought that we’d have a fight that resulted in us becoming the world’s worst of enemies. I thought that you’d make the decision that you deserved better. I thought I’d come to the realisation that it wasn’t you that I wanted anymore. I thought that we’d make the decision deliberate. I thought that it would be a sure thing that you’d say “Bye, Phil.” Or that I’d finally utter, “We’re over, Dan,” and after that second we’d be done. I didn’t think − maybe out of ignorance or unintentional wishful thinking − that we’d just… drift apart.

   I didn’t think that over the course of our crazy relationship that as the days went by, I’d be spending more time at PJ’s house or that you’d eat dinner with me and then return to your room. I didn’t think that we’d be the ones who had to rehearse conversations in our heads first or that we’d avoid each other until completely necessary. I didn’t think that we’d stop asking each other to go over our videos or reduce our morning talks to “Pass the milk.” I wouldn’t have come to the conclusion that I’d spend more nights sleeping on the couch than in your arms. It didn’t pass my mind once that I’d be in your doorway, watching you pack your bags and hearing you say, “I need a break right now, Phil.”

And not ever did I imagine that I’d let you walk out that door without a word of protest from me.    

   I never envisioned that every week you’d leave the apartment days at a time, coming back and taking a few more of your things with you every time you left. And I’d never had thought that I’d find myself avoiding you every time you would. If someone had told me that your room would be mostly empty by Christmas time, I would have laughed. I would have never given a second glance to someone who said I’d start using your room for storage. I’d never consider the possibility that you’d only come by every two weeks to mutter a ‘hi,’ and get another one of your possessions we’d once shared. I didn’t think that we would drop the contract for the BBC One radio show when they called us in.  Never had I thought that we’d just stop talking and stop mentioning each other in our videos, to our viewers, or to our friends… or to our families.

Never, in the years that we were together, or the months that we were apart, did I ever think that I would be walking to that coffee shop that we would always visit, with a box full of your stuff, preparing to talk to you for what would presumably be the last time.

And as I waited, I thought about that necklace you gave me those first few months of our new found relationship and when you told me to keep it. I thought about it sitting somewhere inside a messy box in your old room, having forgotten it existed when I looked through them.

   I thought about the time when I first saw you or the time when we went on the Ferris wheel. I saw montages of our old Skype calls from 2009 and the texts we sent throughout the years in my head. I remembered the many nights we spent together when I claimed you mine and you made me yours. I remembered holding you when you cried and I remembered your arms around me when I was ill. I thought back to the night you reached one million subscribers. I thought of your flaws and your perfections. I thought about your professional look but then I thought of you in sweats on a Saturday morning making pancakes and tea in our untidy kitchen.

  I thought about the words people would say about you, and I thought about the way you turned away from them. I thought about the things we accomplished when we stood by each other’s sides. I saw the days we spent on the couch cuddled up to each other, and the vacations we’d take. I thought about the photo album you gave me on our second anniversary, filled with polaroids and print-outs. I thought mostly about us and the memories I’d locked away.

Then, you walked in. I waved you over apathetically and we ordered our drinks in silence. You didn’t order your usual drink, but neither did I. We sat back down, not at our old couch, but at a small table with you across from me. I waited for you to speak but you stared silently out the window for a while.

“You know,” you began, still looking at the people on the pavement walking across the street, but you didn’t finish your sentence for a long while. You still just stared outside. Then you looked past me to the people behind me, talking happily to each other.

“I’m sorry,” You said, “For that night. For the weeks after that night. For now.”

I let you talk.

“I knew this is where we were coming to. I knew we both were getting tired of each other. I knew we were both avoiding each other. I’m sorry I didn’t try to fix it, or maybe that I didn’t want to.” You said.

“But Phil, why didn’t _you_?” you asked, and I stayed quiet because I didn’t have a reason. I still don’t have one.

You let me keep my quiet. But then you sighed and moved on. And I knew when you did, that you moved on with your _life_ then too.

“How have you been?” you questioned, looking down at your drink.

“Fine,” I said.

And we talked for the next two hours.

 I told you how I’d been feeling, you told me the same.

We talked about YouTube and our careers. You told me that you were going to film your last video and you told me about your plans to go back to college. I told you about the new job I had gotten. We talked about your new house and I talked about PJ and Chris. We talked all about our new lives without each other, in vague details and small voices, but we still talked.        

Then, we talked about our relationship.

You said, “I don’t think we can continue it.” And I said I agreed.

And we stayed silent for a while, not entirely bathing in each other’s company but acknowledging each other’s presence. That was the closest I had felt to you in months.

Finally, you took a breath and stood up.

“This was good…. for us, Phil.” You said, and you looked at me. I nodded and I offered the box of your things to you, saying I’d help you take it to your car.

We paid separately for our drinks, and walked out of the shop. I followed you down the street a bit away, watching as you opened the trunk and I placed the box in.

We looked at each other for a second, and then you hugged me. And I hugged back, wrapping my arms around you one last time.

“You know,” you mumbled into my shoulder, “I still loved you.”

“I loved you too, Dan,” I muttered into yours.

And just like that, we parted. And you waved once, climbing into the driver’s seat and started the car. I stepped back onto the pavement and watched as you drove further into the city, your car becoming a dot in the distance.

I knew it was past tense; our love, but it still existed somewhere; in our hearts, in another world, on another street in another life, our love still existed. You knew it too.

I walked back to my apartment and reluctantly opened the door, remembering once when it was _our_ apartment. I walked to my room and lay down on my bed. And I never thought that I would have felt the way that I did, then.

+

And now, I look back on that day, and I notice things I didn’t before. I noticed how you didn’t look at me when we were talking. I noticed how when you did, you were missing the familiar gleam in your brown eyes and the smirk that you used to wear on your lips. I noticed the more pronounced dark circles under your eyes and the light scent of wine. I noticed the taste of a bitter smoke on your coat when we hugged. I noticed how you seemed to care more about me then, then you ever did in our relationship and I noticed the falter in your voice when you said you loved me.

I went over that day, starting with the black coffee you ordered. It stood out to me because you used to hate black coffee. You also used to hate the idea of having your own car, which you had. You used to hate the redundancy of not sharing the bill, but you paid separately for that. You used to hate college, but you went back to it. You hated tables with hard, wooden chairs but we sat at one. You used to hate goodbyes but we said them.

Sometimes I walk into your room and think about the question when you asked why I didn’t try and fix our relationship and I’ve never come up with an explanation. Sometimes I look at that card you handed me that had your number and never call. Sometimes I just think about you.

Sometimes I hope that we can still be friends.

+

I cleaned out your room today, and I cleaned out the apartment. I’m moving out of the city, to a house in the suburbs.

I found that necklace you gave me all those years ago. I found a letter you wrote me in 2009. I found that stuffed lion I used to have in the background of my videos. I found a ticket stub from one of our train visits. I found a photo of us kissing in cat whiskers. I kept them all. And then, in a box that was lined with red velvet, I found a note that was written in your handwriting.

> _Phil, it’s been two years since we started dating and it’s also been two years since I fell in love with you. I can think of a million and five reasons why I shouldn’t write this and only one reason why I should: I love you. And I want to spend every single day with you. Well, I guess that’s two reasons. But anyway, Phil, this is a promise. This is a promise that when we’re in a better position in our lives, whether it’s two years or two weeks that I will promise to ask you to marry me. And this is a promise that I will never stop loving you. Ever. This is a promise that no matter whatever happens to us or to the world, that we will always find our way back to each other. This is a promise that I will always think of you as my boyfriend, my best friend and the greatest person that ever existed in the world. I love you so much Phil. And love doesn’t really ever go away._
> 
> _Yours always, Dan_

And that’s when I finally cried. That’s when I finally regretted not saving our relationship those years ago. That’s when I regretted not saving you.

I finally regretted not asking how you were really doing the day we met up. I finally regretted not calling your number and not visiting your house. I regretted spending nights at PJ’s and sleeping on the couch and I regretted everything wrong I did in our relationship. But I did not regret that.

And I will never regret you.

And if I ever see you again I hope you’ll remember that letter and your promise and I’ll say yes. I hope that I’ll be able to hold you forever and we’ll be each other’s again.    

But Dan, it’s now my turn to say sorry. For everything. For every single thing you blame me for.

I am so sorry, Dan. I am so sorry.

I think I just want to see you again. But I think it’s a little too late for that, now, isn’t it?

I walked the streets by our apartment – my apartment, and my mind was filled.

Filled with the thought of you and with the thought of death – with screaming thoughts that told me I wanted to get away. To leave. Filled with truths I never admitted and with feelings that I hated. Filled with your name repeating itself over and over. Filled with nights and memories and demons that ripped my heart apart. Filled with a hate, an utter, true, overwhelming loathing of myself, because _goddamn it,_ I should have done something to help you. I should have done anything.

Anything but let you drive away in that car. Anything but letting our relationship crumble. _Anything_ , I could have done _anything_ to save you.

But I didn’t, and I am so stupid. So, so, stupid.

I walked the streets in the middle of the city, in the back allies and gravel roads, and found myself in a bar.  

Alcohol was my friend that night, you know; so much whiskey that drowned you out. That drowned me and my senses. Drowned the pain and the hate and the love and drowned everything in a burning liquid.

It was an ocean and I wasn’t surfacing anymore.

Drowning that night had a nice feel to it. I couldn’t feel your hands wrapped around my throat, choking me. I couldn’t feel the beat of my heart. I couldn’t feel you over my shoulder or your hatred.  I couldn’t feel the ground beneath my feet as I ran. I couldn’t feel my hands grasping the knife and the booze and the pills from our kitchen. I couldn’t feel the wind biting at me when I ran back into the streets. I couldn’t feel the metal stairs as my feet slapped against them as I took to the roof of a London building.     

 I couldn’t feel the desire to live anymore.

 I couldn’t feel the cold blade as I held it in my hand or the pain when it slit my wrists over and over and over again, cutting deeper into my skin.

That night was my only escape. My last escape. 

I had the bottle in my hand and a bottle of pills in my pocket. I had the blade and my blood dripping and pooling.

I was screaming. Screaming for you. For everything to end. For _someone, anyone_ to hear me. I screamed and shouted and sobbed.

 

Your name was the last thing on my lips before I swallowed those forty-six pills and the rest of the bottle of alcohol.

Your face was the last thing on my mind when my eyes closed.

Your voice was the only sound ringing in my ears.

Your scent was the last thing that filled my lungs.

Your skin was the only thing I ever felt before my breath stopped.

_You were the last thing I ever thought about._

_I love you,_ you wrote, _and love doesn’t really ever go away._

_And I thought, how true it was; because even when I thought I didn’t, even when I wasn’t thinking at all, I still loved you. I always loved you._

_I love you now and I loved you then._

_And when my heartbeat stopped,_

_it stopped with every drop of blood ceasing for you._

**Author's Note:**

> Um so hi this is my first fic im ever publishing anywhere, which hey, is scary, so any con-crit or comments or anything would be great. You can find me on tumblr where im better known as @petewense or on my fic side blog @dpfics. I love you and thank you for reading. i suck at summaries and also end notes :D


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